


Littlest Things

by mozaics



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozaics/pseuds/mozaics
Summary: Claudette doesn’t belong in a place like Ormond, where there is more snow than there is greenery. She hardly belonged in Montreal, and she loved her hometown more than she loved most places. But her therapist had recommended a change in scenery, and Claudette had come far enough to know that growth was in her blood; it was what she needed, and stepping out of her comfort zone was something she had been building toward.
Relationships: Claudette Morel/Frank Morrison
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Littlest Things

**Author's Note:**

> monetarybills requested : Frank and Claudette become friends after meeting on cold night. The two get closer and closer,eventually becoming more than just friends. But Claudette doesn't know just how jealous and dangerous her new boyfriend is. Yandere Frank/Claudette .

Claudette doesn’t belong in a place like Ormond, where there is more snow than there is greenery. She hardly belonged in Montreal, and she loved her hometown more than she loved most places. But her therapist had recommended a change in scenery, and Claudette had come far enough to know that growth was in her blood; it was what she needed, and stepping out of her comfort zone was something she had been building toward.

When the opportunity comes to work a little while at the small community college in Ormond, she takes it even though she knows that her parents will be livid. She had caved to their need to stay close for college, and she never really spread her wings beyond the occasional tag along at some house party with her cousins. Her therapist had said any growth was good growth, but Claudette craves freedom. It’s what the opportunity hands to her. It’s not supposed to be for long, and it doesn’t pay too well. She’s happy nonetheless. 

The apartment that she finds is dirt cheap, a studio that's big enough for her and her cat and a few of her house plants. Her father drives with her in the moving van. He talks about being from a place like Ormond, where there are more dead ends than there were opportunities. She can hear the worry in his voice, and she can only console him by saying that this wasn’t forever. She’d be home sooner rather than later, surely. They spend the day together. He takes her to buy a car that’s slightly older than the one she left at home. She’s proud to say that her dad seems to be a bit calmer when he pulls off in the moving van.

“Call me if you need anything, “ His voice is soft, and she presses a kiss to his cheeks. “You can come home whenever you need to.”

Her stomach rolls as she watches him pull off, a hot burning at the back of her eyes. She worries she made a mistake, but she knows that it’s far too late to backout now. Reassurance lies in the fact that she can see her therapist on the weekend. The drive will be trash, but it will be a familiar routine in all this change.

* * *

For all that they say about Canadians, Claudette is not really used to the full brunt of the chill that surrounds the old ski town. It hits her like a truck when she wakes in the morning and makes the mistake of putting her feet down onto the freezing cold hardwood floor. Her orange tabby makes a point of diving into the spot she just left, curling his slim body into her lingering body heat.

She can’t blame him. She hates being out of bed at this hour, but she’s got so much to do and so little time to do it. She starts in on the remaining boxes once she finally wakes up and gets her teeth all brushed. It’s funny the way that she fills a brand new space with new furniture, and it still doesn’t feel like her home. She hardly knows how to work a power drill, but she gets everything that her dad didn’t set up built and settled into their semi-forever home. 

The apartment goes from drab and bland to the right amount of Claudette Morel. The few potted plants and succulents that she could bring are scattered in the spots where they’d be suited best to live. The botanist in her knows that she should keep only a few until she figures out the right way to care for them in this temperature, but she’s always been a bit of a plant addict. Her stomach’s churning, and her fridge is empty anyway. It’s an excuse to get outside when she has nothing to do. Her internet installation would be another day or two, and she’d best keep herself occupied otherwise.

It’s almost instant regret when the cold hits her nose like a brick to the face, and she suddenly wishes she had just stayed inside with her cat and ordered takeout or something. But she soldiers on and finds that the place isn’t too hard to navigate. All the interesting things are at the center of the town. There is no proper florist, but the modest sized hardware store has a modest-sized house plant selection. But she can make due. When she gets online, she’ll just order herself a variety of new things. Either way, the old man behind the counter is nice and doesn’t comment on the amount of plants she buys or the two trips that it takes to transfer all her new purchases to the backseat of her car. 

It’s her very own victory. She glows with the exhaustion of successful human interaction. She rewards herself with another pit stop at one of the more down home places that she sees around the town. It’s a Mom ‘n Pop diner of sorts. It’s obviously seen better days, and the seats are lined with teens that are either ditching school or have already dropped out. A few adults dot the seats here or there, but for the most part it’s empty and quiet with a jukebox in the corner that croaks out tunes decades too old for her taste. She adores everything about it.

It’s easy to find a corner booth and settle down in her own little slice of heaven. She orders the only vegetarian thing she can find on the menu and waits. The waitress is supremely kind and throws in an extra grilled cheese with her soup and sandwich, and Claudette can’t help but adore her too. It’s a good in between: eat, then shop for groceries, and then go home. She needed more cat food and litter anyway. No doubt her cat would be hankering for a top up when she got home even though she fed him well enough this morning. 

It’s easy enough to fall back into her thoughts, to let her mind wander as she watches the people that seem too big for this too small town. She wonders if she’d be teaching some of these kids or adults one day. Would they like her or would they dismiss her like everyone eventually does? Her heart aches for the girl with pink curls that seems to smile too hard at the girl sitting beside her that seems much too cool. It’s easy to relate to someone she’s never met, and feel empathy for their perceived similarities. 

The food’s great, and the people watching makes her all too melancholy that the little diner feels all too small. Her throat works, like she cannot swallow, and her voice is tiny and weak as she barely manages to ask the waitress if she can take her cheese and soup to-go. One step forward then two steps back never seemed so true until now. 

She leaves a tip, probably too much but she doesn’t really care. The waitress was nice to her, and she deserves it really. Claudette is in such a rush to get out of there that she hardly notices the man that walks in the door at the same time as she moves to leave. It’s an odd fumble really, her head so focused on the floor and her body already leaning forward to apply some weight to the door, but the door was already open and she was just falling.

It’s too sudden to make a noise, and surely it would hurt like hell when she did hit the floor. Part of her seizes up, expecting pain beyond pain but startling still when it never comes. An arm had come up to brace around her waist, her face and body falling into another than onto the stoop and sidewalk. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s fallen into a person and a man at that. Her ears are hot with embarrassment as she tries to right herself and speak at the same time.

“O-oh my g-god! I-I’m s-so s-so sorry -- I-I w-wasn’t looking w-where I-was going.” Her words feel like lead on her tongue, her eyes trying to find any place to look but at the man, though she was practically level with his dingy hoodie and chest. 

The answer comes after a brief moment, where the arm around her tightens, helping her find her balance but not moving out of her space. “It’s alright. Shit happens.”

His voice is deep, almost raspy like he doesn’t use it often or when he does he’s yelling at something. Claudette can’t help but risk a glance up, catching a glimpse of sharp blue-grey eyes. He doesn’t shy from her gaze, and Claudette can’t help but linger on the piercings that dot his face and the scars to match. Her mouth follows when his tug into a smile.

“Like what you see?”

“W-what?” Her mind swiftly catches up with her mouth, and if she weren’t holding onto her bags so hard, she’d have covered her face with her hands. “S-sorry, I -- uh , I-I didn’t mean t-to stare.”

“It’s alright, Doll. Bout time more people fuckin’ appreciate me.” There’s a smirk in his voice, and something about it sets her gut on fire and puts her at ease at the same time. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around this dump. I think it’d remember a face like yours.”

He’s laying it on thick, but she smiles anyway. “I-I just m-moved here. I-I’m w-working up at t-the college.”

“Oh, yeah?” He nods, briefly sucking his lip between his teeth. “Didn’t know they were recruiting. Frank, by the way.”

“O-Oh! I’m Claudette, nice to meet you.”

Claudette can’t believe her own gall, but at the same time she’s sod damn proud of herself. It’s a meet-cute if anyone has ever seen one, and though Claudette has to go shopping , she’s overjoyed that Frank invites her to come hang with him and his friends. He doesn’t seem to mind it when she can’t, but somehow manages to cajole her into writing down her number for him. Claudette doesn’t know why she did it as she’s never done something like that before. Maybe it’s the way that he gives her those slight smiles and smirks or the way that he looks at her like she’s the only person in the whole place. Either way, she’s smitten, and he seems to be too in his own way. 

He waves bye to her when she finally shuffles around him to leave and makes her promise no more tackle attempts on random strangers. She’s in a much better mood than she was before, and the smile that she leaves the diner with stays stuck on her face long after she gets home from her shopping. Her cat bellows out a demand for food, and she’s in a too good a mood to fake complain about it. 

* * *

Claudette likes Ormond. She’s come to adore her job, even though there are so few people in her class. She’s always wondering how the little community college keeps afloat out here. But the pay is nice enough, and sometimes she gets to go home early if her professor decides to cancel classes or has a stack of things for her to grade. No one really needs tutoring in biology so for the time being her free time is truly her own. 

Her apartment is shaping up nicely. Soon there’s more plants than there is furniture, and Claudette loves it. Her mother had always kept a tight hold on how many she could keep at one time and would never let her have odd morphs. But out here, on her own, she’s free to do whatever she wants. 

Which is probably what ends up shaping her favorite part of Ormond: Frank Morrison, whom she can’t help but think is the sweetest guy in the world. Granted she has no experience with men and he’s far beyond the fairy tale guy, but she can’t help but adore him. He had quickly become her favorite part of Ormond and her favorite person all together. 

He had called her a few days after they had met, when Claudette had almost forgotten about the whole encounter beyond late night cringes at her awful behavior while trying to sleep. Truth be told, Claudette was almost sure it was a prank when he asked if she wanted to go out. There were only so many places to go in Ormond, but they ended up at the diner anyway. Claudette had dreaded it, but she had said yes to it anyway. She had been so terrified of not being able to make conversation that she was pleasantly surprised when everything seemed to flow. 

It wasn’t a one off, either. Frank was patient with her in a way that no one else really was. He waited for her when her words got stuck or she simply couldn’t find her voice. He was calm, and he didn’t rush or make fun of her. There were days when she was nonverbal all together, and there was an understanding there as well.

But she also learned little things about him, about his family or lack of. She learned about the things that annoyed him, that made him twitch. Frank was the type of guy that few people cared for. Once they saw the piercings and the tattoos, they put him in a box that they couldn’t let him out of. Aggressive, bad influence, dead beat punk ; all words that were used to hurt him. 

“But you don’t see me like that,” he had whispered to her one day, twisting one of her dreads around his finger. “You look at me like I’m a person.”

“B-because you are a person, Frank.”

“God, Doll, you are too nice for your own good.”

Claudette shrugs, and leans in to pinch the skin of his cheek between her fingers. It’s a casual touch, not one she’s necessarily used to. She likes touching him in any way that she can. She finds that he’s more touch starved than she could ever be, and she doesn’t mind giving him the little things that he’s never had.

His head turns, nudging his nose into the palm of her hand, his lips following close behind. It’s a soft touch, a quality that people don’t expect from him, but Claudette sees it in droves. Her ears burn, and she can see the way that his eyes follow the movement of her tongue across her lips. 

It’s their first intimate touch, leaning across their table. Soft lips meeting chapped ones, Claudette’s fingers being rubbed awake by his calloused hands. She doesn’t have to say she loves him for him to hear it.

Frank’s hands stay tangled with hers when he walks her to her car after all of their dates. Everytime he lingers like he doesn’t want to let go, like she’ll disappear if he dares to. And Claudette can’t help but fall in love with him a little more each time .

* * *

Having a boyfriend is new for Claudette, but she’s glad that Frank is patient with her. He teaches her little things that she never really knew about relationships or even herself. They are intimate at Claudette’s speed, but she’s sure that Frank is used to going at his pace and slows up only for her benefit. She’s thankful for that, and she tries to show it as often as she can.

She hangs out with his friends more, though it’s mostly Suzy these days. She likes them all, but she and Suzy have a special connection. Claudette is sure that Julie just doesn’t like her, and she can’t help but reciprocate that feeling. She reminds Claudette too much of the girls that used to bully her in school. Calling her hair too kinky, calling her names and pushing her down. It’s completely fine that they keep each other at arm’s length. As for Joey, she’s sure that the guy just puts up with her because Suzy and Frank love her as much as they do, and that’s alright with her. He’s a funny guy when he’s not silent and somewhat menacing.

Things are alright, and Claudette finds a sense of normalcy in her everyday life. Work, Home, Friends, Boyfriend and repeat. There's never a specific order, but her life revolved around that. She stops going to her forums as much when she gets her boyfriend and friends. She doesn’t need it as much as she used to. She feels accomplished in a way and sad in another. Her therapist encourages her to keep growing the next time she sees her. All growth is good growth in her eyes, and Claudette wants to make her proud. 

The diner is their go to hang-out when they can’t get Claudette to come up to the lodge. Claudette is typically the first one there as her apartments are closer and she’s the only one with a reliable car. She doesn’t mind sitting and waiting, and Doris knows her by sight alone now and doesn’t have to bother her before sliding a cup of tea onto the table. The gang will be there soon, and Claudette always orders the same old thing anyway. 

Today’s a bit different but not terrible. One of her students, a fellow transplant, comes up to her table when he notices her from the door. She’s always liked him (Michael is his name. His eyes are a peculiar shade of green that makes her think of an ocean of grass) and found it easy to talk to him. As it always seems to do, they get to talk about hydroponics, and the conversation is long and deep. So much so that she doesn’t notice when Frank finally arrives at the bar until he’s suddenly there, standing between her own sitting form and Michael standing. 

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Claudette is taken aback by the tone, and the way that Frank seems to have his shoulders squared. He’s so laid back around her, she’s never realized how wide he could be. “N-nothing? This is Michael, Frank. He’s from my class.”

“Nice to meet you, dude.” Michael holds out a hand to shake, a smile on his face. But it could only last so long. Frank eyes his hand for a moment then goes back to looking at him like he has the audacity to even exist. Claudette hadn’t even noticed how thunderous his face had looked till now. “ _Oookay_ …. Well I gotta get doing, I’ll see you on Monday, Ms. Morel”

“A-ah, see you soon!”

Frank doesn’t sit down even as the boy beats a hasty retreat, finally sliding into the booth when the young man finally ducks out of the diner. It’s behavior Claudette’s never seen from him. He’s always so kind to her, gentle with her. He might poke fun at his friends or snap on them when he’s in a notoriously bad mood but never anything like that. Claudette can’t help but wrack her brain for the reason as the silence between the two of them slowly grows more and more oppressive. The tension is thick and suffocating like Claudette is trying to wade through a heavy soup. She suddenly wishes that she was at home in her bed. 

“Doll.” Frank’s raspy voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sudden and swift and terrifying. It’s much sharper than he’s ever spoken to her before.   
“Y-yes?” There’s the damned stutter again.

“You don’t always have to entertain people that ain’t worth your time. Smiling and shit for people like that.”

Poor Claudette is twice as confused as she was before, but still some part of her rationalizes the message. He’s just worried about her like he would be worried about anyone in his support group. He doesn’t trust easily, and it makes sense that he wouldn’t trust Michael. Though there is something in his face that still chills Claudette right to her bones. 

He reaches out for her hand, and it’s normal for her to let him take it. But as her silence lingers on, his grip tightens. Her brows furrow, her bones aching from the grinding pressure applied. 

“Oow, Frank! T-that hurts!” She barely gets the words out before his grip relaxes, his thunderous expression smoothing into a cool blankness before softening into something like worry. 

“Sorry, Doll, sorry.” He brings her fingers up to kiss. His lips are cold on her suddenly too warm skin. “I’m sorry-- I love you.”

She can barely get out the reply as the door jingles, and the familiar banter of their friends drifts over toward them. There’s not much Claudette knows how to say, and her mind struggles to rationalize. She tries to put on a brave face, tries to relax under the arm that Frank throws across her shoulder as he scoots into her side to make room for Joey. 

* * *

Claudette is smart enough to know a red flag when she sees one, and the flag she sees is as crimson as blood. Part of her brain tries to compartmentalize the situation, to get the whole thing to make sense like it should. But either way her mind comes back to the factors at hand. There was no reason that Frank should have acted the way he did. There was no reason for him to have acted like that toward Michael.

It would have been easier to forget and to forgive if there wasn’t the ache of her fingers and the slight bruising of her skin. Hindsight was a bit of a bitch with all the things that she could have probably done better or differently. It’s easy to fall into a mind set that highlights her faults, even though she knows that she didn’t do anything wrong.

Things are fine till everything suddenly isn’t. Frank’s behavior highlights the little things that she never noticed before. The insistence that she wears his coat, a factor of his jealousy and his possessiveness. When he asked after her day, the odd way he asked after her new friends or new connections. He wanted to keep tabs on her. He loved her, that much she can tell, but something that she can tell is that there was something sinister about his affection.

Claudette knows that these little things can be big problems so she stops seeing him. It’s easy to drop him out of her life and retreat to old hobbies. Her therapist would be disappointed that she turned back to the internet and forums for validation, but something in those cool grey eyes had shaken her to the core. She was smart enough to know when to get out even though she didn’t quite understand how. 

But it goes over as well as anyone could imagine. The first day is normal. Frank calls at the time that he always does. Claudette doesn’t answer the phone and lets it ring until the answering machine finally picks it up. Frank’s raspy voice fills the apartment like a specter, making her jump out of her skin.

“Didn’t know you had anything to do today, Doll. I’ll call you back later. Love you.”

And it only escalates from there, especially as Claudette begins to ignore the calls. From once a day, to twice, then three, and then there's a point in time where he’s calling five times a day. She has to clear out the machine often, though sometimes she lets it stay full in an attempt to discourage him. But he calls anyway, and she lets it go to the machine each time. His voice goes from wrecked with worry, to pleading, to anger over that period of time.

“Pick up your fucking phone! At least tell me what I did! Didn’t you fucking say you loved me, and now you’re treating me like this?!”

Claudette knows better to pick up the phone, no matter how much he screams into the receiver. She has to go about her life like normal, or however normal can be when your ex is nuts like that. It brings to mind how small Ormond is, how almost everyone knows everyone else. She can’t avoid him forever. Claudette knows this, and there is only a matter of time till it all comes to ahead.

She doesn’t go to the diner anymore, opting to stay in to cook for herself or eat at the college. Her commute to work and home are streamlined. She doesn’t even dally in the grocery store anymore. She always has a list and is ready to be in and out at a moment's notice. She goes out of her way trying to make this easier for herself and for Frank. Whatever is going on with him, she doesn’t think either of them are equipped to handle it. 

But Claudette’s a fool if she thought Frank would have given up that easy. It’s why she wasn’t all too surprised when one of her fellow student teachers informed her that they had seen her ex milling about campus even though everyone knew that Frank didn’t belong there. The man had barely dropped out of school with a passable degree, much less go to college on his foster dad’s income. Security had been informed, but no one really wanted to mess around with Frank.

“He looked really _haggard_ , black bags under his eyes. I don’t think he was drunk, but he looked angry…”

“O-oh god… I-I hope he’s okay, b-but he c-cant keep coming here.”

It’s stating the obvious, but the universe still is cruel and he still comes around. They end up running into each other, but there's nothing cute about the way that Frank looks at her, the way that he seems like he hasn’t slept in days. She shouldn’t talk to him. She should just walk away, but the empathy in her lets him take her hand and lets him find a bench where they can sit and talk.

“Whatever I fucking did, I’m sorry. You know that I love you and I’d do anything for you. Any-fucking-thing.”

Claudette can tell he really means that, but she also notes the way that he hangs on to her hand and tries to keep her from pulling away from him. “I understand that, Frank. But I-I just don’t t-think this is healthy, y-you know. I-I just think that we s-shouldn’t see each other.”

“ _What_? Why the fuck would you go and say that when I just said I was sorry?!”

“I know you’re sorry, but you don’t even see what you did. It’s not just one thing, but there are so many l-little things! You’ve been hurting me, scaring me!”

Frank’s scowl pulls deeper across his face, something that Claudette never really saw him use with her. From the beginning he had been sweet and kind, but there was a monster underneath. The grip on her hand tightens, and Claudette doesn’t let her fingers get crushed once more. She instead snatches her hands away, cradling them against her chest. 

“This isn’t over, Doll. I’m not going to let you go because YOU’RE too scared to commit. We’re the best thing that ever happened to each other. We need each other!”

Claudette flinches away from him, her mouth twitching in fear when she realizes that this isn’t going as well as she hoped. She doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. His dirty tattooed hand shoots out, grabbing at the lapel of her coat, making her flinch and outright scream. 

“Shut up! Stop squirming and get up. We’re going home and talking about this.” She notices then the jack knife that flashes in his left hand. Her mind stutters in fear when she realizes that he would use it on her to keep her quiet if he had to. “Get up, Claudette! NOW!”

Claudette can’t get her legs to obey her even if she wanted to. Her hands, her entire body, shake so hard she thinks that she’s going to vibrate out of her skin. She flounders, opening her mouth to say something, but the words won’t come out. She tries over and over again, and she can see that Frank’s face is growing more and more thunderous as time goes on. When she finally knows what to say, what to do, the voice that calls out isn’t even her own. 

“HEY! GET OFF OF HER!” A voice to the right of them booms, deep loud and authoritative. Claudette’s head swings around to see the man approaching, tall and wide like a truck with a great big beard and many tattoos. She’s seen him before, but never talked to him properly. He storms over, his big hand wrapping around the wrist of Frank's hand that’s fisted in her coat. “Let her GO, man. NOW!”

Frank’s voice screams out, his arm jerking, but he refuses to let go of her. “Mind your OWN FUCKING BUSINESS.” 

Claudette has good enough sense to resist, tearing away from him and wiggling until she can slip out of her jacket and purse. Frank’s noises of ire grow but are mixed in with the larger man’s shouting for him to back the fuck off. Claudette’s head rings, and even as she moves away, Frank makes a motion to follow her around the stranger. 

“Claudette! _**CLAUDETTE!**_ Don’t you fucking go anywhere. Don’t fucking move, do you hear me?!”

Claudette wants to curl in on herself and die, but she can’t help but notice the flash of movement between the scuffle. Obviously Frank is at his limit, and the biker-looking dude doesn’t seem keen to let go while Frank won’t stop coming toward her. The guy wheezes in disbelief, and she sees red before she realizes what’s really happening.

Frank stabbed him. That’s the sudden realization. Frank sank the blade deep in his side, and the blade pierced through so easily. Frank’s face is murderous and smug, piercing catching the little light that filters through the overcast.

“I fucking told you to mind your OWN FUCKING BUSI--”

But Frank’s words are cut off as a ring studded fist rears back and clocks him right across the jaw. Claudette can hear the way it connects, can see Frank’s head snap back with the recoil of it. He stumbles away from the man, knife and all, and Claudette grunts at the bigger party and stumbles into her arms quite literally.

She looks around, for any salvation, her brows furrowing, and her voice finally comes back to her. “Help! Help! Someone help us!”

Claudette can only try to keep the man upright as she notices that Frank seems to be intent on advancing again once he’s recovered from the stun of the punch. His lip is split, and there is something wild in his eyes that makes Claudette question ever really knowing him at all. The man rasps in her arms, but she can hear the sound of panicked approaching voices and thundering footsteps. Frank can too. His grip on his knife is too tight, and there’s a promise on his face as he holds her eyes.

“This isn’t over. This isn’t fucking over! I won’t give up on you, Doll. Ever.”

Claudette can only watch and flinch when she suddenly turns and bolts down the sidewalk. Watching as his retreating form grows smaller and smaller until it disappears around a corner. The groaning man, his hot blood spilling over her hands, and her racing heart are the only tell tale signs that he was ever there at all.

**Author's Note:**

> hope everyone was being safe, i've been sick and tired over all of this time. and definitely in a rut. Hopefully gonna be getting my new stories out and everything over the next month or two. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my wonderful beta! I cannot stress enough how much I love them :)


End file.
